The Carlisle Mosquito Online

Friday, January 26, 2001



Winter sunlight

comes into the room,

bringing in with it

an infinitesimal dust

brushed from the surface

of trees in its path

and lays it down on the rug

in the furred shapes

of tree-shadows,

their skinny branches

splintered, diffuse

their stories

lost in translation

from twig to rug

like grown-up voices

from the next room

too soft to decipher.

Barbara Bennett

2001 The Carlisle Mosquito